


So This Is How He Felt

by johnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Death, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 01:29:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6591160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnlock/pseuds/johnlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after Sherlock returns from his fake death, Sherlock finds out how John felt. NO MARY! Mary is nonexistent!</p>
            </blockquote>





	So This Is How He Felt

          The building is aflame, the air smell of smoke and burning flesh fill the air. Sherlock’s entire body aches as he looks up into the green eyes of a young woman who is yelling, “What is your name?” Sherlock looks up at the woman confused and whispers hoarsely, “John?”

          “Okay, John, you are going to be okay. My name is Jenny, and I’m a paramedic. Do you remember what happened?”

          Sherlock tunes out the annoying woman and tries to think. _What happened? Where’s John? Is he okay?_

          “JOHN! Can you hear me?”

          At the sound of John’s name, Sherlock looks around for him. Sherlock tries to sit up, but the green-eyed paramedic pushes him back down on his back.

          “No, John, you must lay still until the gurney is brought over.”

          “What?” at this point Sherlock is utterly confused, why does this woman keep calling him John, “Where’s John?”

          “What do you mean where’s John. I thought you said your name was John?”

          “No, you idiot, my name is Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes. John is my friend, he was with me when…when… Wait, what happened?”

          Jenny’s eyes widen with shock, “GUYS, THERE IS SOMEBODY STILL IN THE BUILDING!” Jenny turns back to Sherlock, “It’s going to be okay, they will find your friend, I promise.”

 

* * *

 

 

          Sherlock awoke with a start, covered in a cold sweat. He felt as if his heart was beating out of his chest. Sherlock had had the same dream every night for a full year to the day; you would think by now he would be used to it, but alas he is not. Sherlock glanced around the room, _John’s room again._ Sherlock didn’t remember entering John’s room, but of course he never does. For a year now, whenever Sherlock actually falls asleep, either in his bed or on the couch, he always wakes up in John’s room.

          Sherlock crept down the stairs. This walk never got easier for Sherlock knows that when he enters the sitting room, John’s worn chair will still be empty, slowly collecting dust. Sherlock has been living without John for a full 365 days now, and it still hurts.

          Sherlock slowly walks over to the desk and takes out his cocaine packet that one of the guys in his homeless network had brought over yesterday. Cocaine is the only thing that dulls the pain of his loss. Sherlock is heart wrenching sorry that he made John go through this pain every day for two years, Sherlock can barely make it a year and he doesn’t plan on trying to make it a second year.

          Sherlock pushes the needle into his scarred forearm, Sherlock moans as he feels the cocaine enters his system. Sherlock’s racing mind of the past is finally quieted.

 

* * *

 

 

          Sherlock still remembers the day John died, and no matter how he tries, he just can’t seem to delete it. The started like normal, Sherlock was working on a messy experiment when John descended into the kitchen, stopping only long enough to tell Sherlock to be careful with the acid sitting on the table right next to Sherlock’s elbow. Just as Sherlock was able to tell John to not be so stupid there was a knock on the door.

          Mrs. Hudson had let a new client in and pointed her up the stairs. The case was barely a 5 on the scale, but it had been almost a month since their last case so Sherlock was desperate to do something. The case involved a simple theft of a car, but what made it worth Sherlock’s interest was that the theft was not caught on the parking lot’s video recorders. It was not the hardest case, it was quite simple once Sherlock looked at a disk of the recording; the footage had be tampered with.

          Sherlock had easily located the car by noon, and the case would have been finished right then, but John forced Sherlock to stop for a quick lunch. Sherlock knew that the lunch was more for John than himself since John knew that Sherlock didn’t like eating on cases because it slows his thinking, but John didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast this morning and had returned home so late from the clinic that he didn’t get dinner either. So, Sherlock stopped for a quick lunch at Tapas Brindisa Soho, the restaurant they ate at when they were on their first case, Sherlock hasn’t been back since that day.

          John dragged the lunch into a two hour ordeal, and Sherlock was all but writhing in the seat across from John. As John slowly wiped his mouth on his napkin and set it on the table signaling he was finished with his meal, Sherlock jumped up and yelled back to Angelo that John and he were leaving and they were grateful for the meal. John rolled his eyes as Sherlock bolted towards the exit, stopping when he got to the door to turn around and signal John to follow. John rolled his eyes again, but followed with a small smile on his face, he knew how hard it was for Sherlock to sit there as he ate but he did it anyways and he did it for John.

          Once, John and Sherlock got to the warehouse the sun was already setting so Sherlock set to work picking the lock. When the door opened, they crept inside as quietly as possible, but not quietly enough because as soon as the door shut behind them all hell broke loose. The thief was in the warehouse also and he heard John and Sherlock enter and he started to panic. The thief started setting fire to everything he could get his hands on before rushing out the back door. John and Sherlock both saw the fires start and the thief escape out the back. Sherlock first ran towards the fire wanting to see what was so important that the thief would take the time to burn it.

          John knew better than to let Sherlock start rummaging through the burning evidence. John tried to pull Sherlock towards the door when he saw the containers in the corner that looked a little too much like oil drums for John’s comfort. Sherlock wasn’t having any of it, he wanted to find out why, _why this car, why mess with the footage, then just set everything on fire, why go through all this trouble?_ Finally, John got through to Sherlock by reminding Sherlock that the thief would be able to answer all of Sherlock’s questions and that he is getting away.

          Sherlock stood up and took off towards the back door where he saw him leaving from. Sherlock knew that John would be following him because John would never let Sherlock get too far away from his side, because that is when Sherlock does something stupid.

          Sherlock burst through the back door and kept running, but as he heard the door slam shut behind him Sherlock was thrown forward. Sherlock woke up looking up in the eyes of a paramedic dazed and confused. Sherlock later came to find out that John didn’t make it out of the building in time, he was just a few feet from the door when the fire reached the oil drums and the building blew up.

 

* * *

 

 

          As thoughts of John continued to fill Sherlock’s mind, even with the haziness of cocaine, Sherlock knew he couldn’t do this anymore. Sherlock tried to be strong at first, he stayed away from the drugs and continued with cases, knowing that John would want him to, but eventually the guilt got to be too much for Sherlock. The guilt that he is the reason that his best and only friend is dead. If only Sherlock hadn’t taken the case, or didn’t stay with the burning papers for so long, or if he had just stayed by John’s side and didn’t leave him behind then at least they would have died together.

          Sherlock crawled from the base of the couch over to John’s desk, he knew John always kept a spare gun in his top right desk drawer. As Sherlock reached into the drawer, he felt the weight of the gun in his hand, but it was far less weight than the weight of his guilt. Sherlock pulled the gun close to his chest, he knows John would be royally pissed if he knew what Sherlock was wanting to do. Sherlock also knows how much this act will hurt those around him, but he just can’t go on, what is his life even mean anymore? He can’t do cases because of the drugs, yet he can’t stop the drugs without John.

          A tear slips down Sherlock’s cheek as he raises the gun to his temple.

          “John, please forgive me for everything. I want to be strong, but I just can’t.” Sherlock whispers into the empty silence that surrounds him.

          **_BANG_**

 

* * *

 

          Mrs. Hudson heard the shot and knew in her heart what had happened, now both of her beautiful, wonderful boys are gone. She doesn’t even try to go to Sherlock, she simply sits down and cries as she calls Lestrade.

          Sherlock is buried later that week next to John so that they would always be together from now into forever. Sherlock’s grave reads: **_“The man whose problem wasn’t that he didn’t care, it was that he cared too much.”_**


End file.
